


a funeral gone by

by AdamantiumDragonfly



Series: Casus Belli [2]
Category: Band of Brothers
Genre: 101st airborne, A year later and the OSS is still my bitch, AU, AU WW II, Agents, Character studies, F/M, Historical Accuracy, Spies & Secret Agents, Virginia Carroll being a badass, World War II, additional content for A Little Discord, special agents
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-09
Updated: 2020-11-09
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:14:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,681
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27474109
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AdamantiumDragonfly/pseuds/AdamantiumDragonfly
Summary: || the angels make Death their servant ||A series of one-shots, forgotten moments, and self-indulgent AUs all under the guise of a character study on Virginia Goldschmidt Carroll.
Relationships: Virginia Carroll/Joe Liebgott
Series: Casus Belli [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1861873
Kudos: 2





	a funeral gone by

**Author's Note:**

> "the past is a funeral gone by." - Edmund Gosse

June 5th 1944, 23:45

I lived in the woods like some sort of wild thing for five days. I had slipped back to the outskirts of town but dared not enter its boundaries to speak to Simone. I couldn’t risk it. I hid in the woods for five days… Knowing that dogs could be used to track me, I had found a water barrel and washed my face and hands, trying to rid myself of the salty stench of blood. In the light of the moon, I saw my reflection on the water’s surface.

The girl looking back at me wasn’t Virginia. I had often felt like two people in one body but today it was very apparent. Virginia, Ginny, my parent’s daughter… Ginny, who had wanted to be a nurse and take care of people. But Ginny wasn’t the only one.

Eris lurked in the shadows, hid in the corner of my smile. Eris who had been born amid orders and explosions of Camp X, who didn’t mind the blood or the lies. Eris, whose heart raced in excitement when she was faced with opposition. It was when Eris took over, killing Peter and the three German officers, setting those explosives that Ginny wondered where her heart had gone. And if, when the war was over, if Eris would ever leave.

I had had to build up Eris, to hide behind her since my first day of training… The water showed Eris, blood dancing through the barrel. It made me sick so I dashed my hand through the water, disrupting my image, and returned to the night.

Every precaution was taken. With the threat of Gestapo or German militant officials following me with bloodhounds and unbridled fury, I couldn’t risk being found. Puddles became my pathway, soft earth was taboo. A footprint or a bent twig could mean life and death to me. I had killed three men and with every life had taken, I trailed behind a loose thread. It was only a matter of time before I was yanked up by the strings and brought to my reckoning, Eris finally facing judgment at the hand of some higher power. Was I a goddess of war or a marionette of death? 

I had little to no contact with Madrid in those five days that I wandered the woods. I had but the scrounged rations and precious rainwater to keep me going and there was no message to promise rescue or removal. For all I knew, I could be a wraith in these woods for the rest of my life. However long that was to be. No angel from above, no savior to swoop down from the sky and save me. 

Five days of crouching in trees, sleeping on a branch, in brief, stolen bursts.

Five days of anticipation, stomach-rolling nerves. Five days of fear and bated breath.

There wasn’t a cloud in the sky that night when my feet had dragged slower than they should have. It was a cloudless night, dark and warm with the approaching promise of burn when my message finally arrived. The OSS only seemed capable of too little too late, but the slip of paper was the closest thing to hope I had found in Normandy. 

Midnight. La Rose. Hold Position. 

It was hard to hold a position that was under constant threat of discovery. It was hard to wait for the moon to rise and midnight to chime in the distant village. This cloudless sky wasn’t the right setting for this changing chapter. It was supposed to be a dark and stormy night. That’s how it was in the stories when someone’s life changed forever. The clouds were grey and the rain would fall in sheets, drenching everything with the ominous weight of possibility. 

This was how the story was supposed to go.

Five days of hiding in trees and fearful anticipation was supposed to end in a dark and stormy night, where my savior would swoop down from the trees and I would have to make a show about how I didn’t need saving. La Rose was taking their sweet time, the midnight bells rang and gone. 

Laying on my stomach in the hedgerows, cool dirt pressing against my turtleneck that was stained with sweat and fear, I had arranged my thoughts in less than gentile words. I was ready to deliver them, to first La Rose and to the OSS. I had been left in enemy territory for nearly a week and when rescue was finally promised, they were late. Eris was clearly not as vital as my information had been made to seem. 

I watched in silence as a shadowy figure darted between the trees, twenty past midnight according to the face of my watch in the moonlight. It was feminine in form and though her steps were calculated, her feet weren’t trained in silent movement. Camp X’s instructors would have made this figure run an extra trek of eight miles for this sloppy display of footwork. Something about her, though, showed training. 

I slipped out of the bushes and fell to my knees, crouched in the leaves while the slight figure of who I was now sure was La Rose flitted away from me in the trees. Undoubtedly she was lost but I wasn’t about to go easy on her. I hadn’t earned the name Eris for nothing and I hadn’t spent four nights in the dirt of Normandy to play this little game of cat and mouse any longer. 

If this was an OSS agent, La Rose had much to learn and I was ready to give a lecture. It was all there, on the tip of my tongue but when it finally came to it, I forgot it all in favor of a less than intimidating response. Yanked from my crouched position in the leaves, I was suddenly weightless and my mouth could only think to say. “Let me go!” 

It took a few tries to get the words out. In French first. And then English. At the first demand, the arms tightened but my native tongue sent me crashing back to the ground, slamming to my knees. Hands encircled my biceps with a vice-like grip and there, feet on the solid ground, I regained my ability to think. 

“What kind of rescue party do you call this?” I asked, trying in vain to remove myself from this beast of man’s grip. “Late and everything.”

“I beg your pardon?” Her French was good. If she was an agent, she had devoted herself to a native accent.

“La Rose, isn’t it?” I glanced over my shoulder and caught a glimpse of blond hair and chiseled features. “This beast yours?” 

“I am La Rose of Paris.” The girl, same blonde hair as the man whose hands were starting to leave bruises on my arms, nodded and I was released. She was older than me, you could see the age in her eyes along with something sharp and raw. La Rose didn’t lay claim to the man who blocked my route. Stepping away from the both of them and against a tree, I rested my hand on the pistol and knife tucked into the waistband of my slacks. There was only one exit from my current position and it was through both of them. Anyone could have intercepted the real La Rose of Paris and they still didn’t seem to 

“And what time do you call this?” I asked, glancing at the sky which was most definitely not midnight. “I was told midnight.” 

“We are here now,” La Rose said as if that was enough. As if I hadn’t been dancing with death for nearly a week. As if agents were taught that a minute could mean life and death in the field. 

“Oh yes. Good thing I wasn’t in danger,” I said, dusting leaves out of my hair. There was no use. They were wrapped in the curls with a stubbornness I didn’t have the energy to fight. “Glad you could take the scenic route.” 

“We can leave you here.” The man offered. He was bigger than I was, his shadow falling across me and he smelled like smoke and the harsh chemicals I had used to make my cocktails. 

“Please do,” I said. “I’ve been fine for five days out here and since you showed up, I’ve only been manhandled.” 

“What’s with all the noise?” A new voice whispered. A third figure appeared out of the shadows, slighter in frame than the man who had hoisted me into the air. His French was also good. Too native. Perhaps these weren’t the agents I had been expecting. 

“Is this her?” He asked. 

“About damn time someone asked,” I muttered. For all they knew I could have been a random French girl meandering the bushes at night. Unlikely but not improbable. 

I was unfair, I knew that but it wasn’t hard to be angry. I was underfed, tired, and just wanted to be home in Chicago, with a cup of mint tea. But I couldn’t do that on my own. And the OSS had sent them to extract me. Taking a deep breath and tossing all the rehearsed anger to the wind, I turned to the trio, finally answering the question posed. 

“I’m Agent Eris,” I extended a hand. I wasn’t sure what I was expecting but it wasn’t the willing hand that met mine. We built a bridge in that dark forest, an alliance, or truce. I forgave them their tardiness and they didn’t toss me over their shoulder. 

“Sorry for any disturbance,” The new figure said, introducing himself as Marc. They were a part of the French Resistance. He shook my hand readily, and introduced his brother, the beast of a man, as Robert. They were all older than I, you could see it in their faces, but I seemed to carry something different. They knew Eris, their eyes shifting when I had said my name. 

La Rose shook my hand last. “And I’m Adélaïde. Adélaïde Klein.”


End file.
